


Verdant

by Bircjosta



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More comfort than hurt, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bircjosta/pseuds/Bircjosta
Summary: On a quiet night in the battle camp an age ago, Achilles promised Patroclus a new life away from war. Somewhere that's green. Patroclus certainly got there, though not in a way he could have predicted. And without the one thing he wanted most of all.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 197





	Verdant

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is my first work for this fandom. These two middle aged Greek men make me really emo, especially after reading The Song of Achilles. I really love the way Hades handled their relationship and conflict, so I wanted to write something from Patroclus's point of view. I hope you enjoy, please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
> 
> Stay safe out there, may 2021 be kind to you.

_There was a rare moment of quiet in the camp. Where there would usually be some commotion of weapon sharpening or raucous, friendly sparring and the cries of the spectators, or some soldiers caterwauling an old drinking song as they swayed arm and arm, stillness lived in its wake._

_Achilles and Patroclus took advantage of this quiet. They were in their tent in bed, folded in on each other with Patroclus resting his back against Achilles’s chest. He didn’t fight the heaviness in his eyes, letting them flutter closed as Achilles gently massaged his scalp, letting his fingers get lost in his thick hair._

_“Are you actually doing any braiding?” Patroclus asked, sleepy amusement in his voice._

_“I was going to, until I remembered I have no idea of how to do it and I remembered that I can admire your hair just by doing this,” replied Achilles._

_Patroclus chuckled, “We’ve found your weakness. The Best of all the Greeks is not the best at doing hair.”_

_“You’ve got me there, love. I know I’m good at least one thing.”_

_“What’s that?” Patroclus asked, now wide awake._

_“Turn around and find out.”_

_He turned and rose to his knees to meet Achilles’s lips, somehow still soft despite the hardships of war. They deepened their kiss in mere seconds, with Achilles wrapping his arms around Patroclus’s shoulders, pulling them closer. They pulled away after a moment, close enough that their breaths mingled._

_“Yes, I’d venture to agree; you are, indeed, very good at that,” he laughed against his lips, Achilles laughing in turn._

_Their laughter petered out and they fell into a comfortable silence with Patroclus taking Achilles face in his hands, running his thumbs along his cheeks._

_“Your eyes…” Patroclus said softly._

_“What about them?”_

_“I…I don’t think I ever told you how beautiful they are. They’re gorgeous, like sea foam.”_

_“Oh, thank you, love,” Achilles murmured._

_“Of course, they’re a welcome sight. You have to admit it’s rather dour around us these days.”_

_Achilles’s brows furrowed, “you say that like we’ve been fighting in black and white, Pat.”_

_Patroclus averted his eyes, there was color on Troy, once. The woods and sea were at one time rich greens and deep browns of the earth, but now, the sea and sand and trees stood rusty from the blood that soaked the land, leaves looked grey, as if they too had the life sucked out of them. There was only death around them, no matter where they turned._

_“I just miss green, that’s all. I miss—”_

_‘I miss Pelion. I miss Chiron. I miss our life before the war,’ is what goes unsaid_.

_“Listen to me,” Achilles begins, taking Patroclus’s chin under his fingers, urging him to look up._

_“When this is over, when we get out of here – and we will get out of here – you and I will go somewhere far away. Away from this, away from my mother. Just us. And there will be green fields and full, lush trees. And a river so crisp and clean and clear the likes of which you’ve never seen. I swear it. I swear we’ll get there, Pat.”_

_Patroclus’s eyes went misty, but he never broke contact as he nodded, sucking in a breath. “That…I think I can hold out for that, for this. For you,” he managed a smile, nudging their foreheads together._

\--

Patroclus opens his eyes from the memory, one he didn’t sip away, letting out a sigh he didn’t need to as he looked around. It was verdant around him, alright. Lush greens and rich teals were his landscape, ghostly butterflies were his friends. It was always a pleasant temperature here, no need for too many coverings yet crisp enough to want a layer. If he looked closely, if he focused on the spot high, high above the head of the statue situated in this chamber, he could see – or maybe hallucinate – the buddings of fruit hanging on a high branch. He liked to think they were figs.

The irony of his circumstances never ceased to mock him. Here he is, in a space that he and his beloved dreamt of. A place, a future that kept Patroclus sane and tethered to the world when the war ran especially rough, only to have his love not by his side, and both have been confined to the afterlife for who knows how long. When Patroclus first made it to Elysium only to find his Achilles not with him, he was patient, surely, he would arrive soon. The patience morphed into panic, panic turned to rage, rage to sadness, sadness to pure, deep hurt. A hurt that swallowed him, like relentless, twisting vines and made him sink to the ground and plant himself there, stuck, becoming part of the scenery at this point. All Patroclus could do was ramble bitterly about his station and lament at the fact that Achilles wasn’t by his side.

The same scenarios plagued his mind: was Achilles really so angry with him in life that he made a pact with the Lord of the Dead himself to be forever separated? That this paradise was actually a curse, for the one person he wanted to spend it with wanted nothing to do with him anymore? He was the best of the Greeks, after all, Achilles could have used his sway to negotiate with the Lord himself, to arrange this afterlife for him out of spite, out of malice? Or, perhaps, those who rule this realm found Achilles too sinful, his crimes in his mortal life too egregious that he was not worthy for Elysium, and he was sent to some awful depth of Tartarus, forced to be tortured for all eternity.

Those thoughts crept in and twisted around his heart (where it once was) and rendered him speechless further to the point that he couldn’t bring himself to ramble. It was only when a pompous, embittered exalted shade finds his way into his glade and challenge him to a fight that his reverie is broken, just long enough to sharply tell the shade to leave or, if things were really bad for him that day or night, stare silently until the shade gave up and left in a huff.

Then Patroclus would be alone once more with his glade, his statue, his river, and his thoughts.

It wasn’t until he gained an unlikely (and annoyingly frequent) visitor to his glade that things began to change. When he saw the myrmidon bracer on that boy’s wrist, “a keepsake from a ‘friend,’” he called it, he allowed himself, for a brief moment, to feel something related to hope. His Achilles was _somewhere_ , that’s a start.

This boy with feet of flame and a penchant for pot smashing quickly became his tether to Achilles, with each passing update his anxiety waned. He wasn’t in Erebus, facing some terrible torture, nor was he willfully ignoring him out of anger or because of wounds that went untreated when they were still alive. He was in the house of the Lord of the Underworld itself, safe, and gainfully employed with a plush rug to stand on. Achilles trained the stranger too, it turns out; Patroclus knew the way he angled his spear by driving forward with the shoulder looked familiar.

Each time the stranger – Zagreus -- arrived, he swore that Achilles missed him and that he would see to it that they would see each other again. Though Patroclus held doubt, those feelings were dampened for but a moment when he would see the determination and _fire_ in those mismatched eyes of his.

If this stranger is as hell – er – Hades – bent on this task, it would only be right to help him.

“Tell him I said to risk it all.”

Achilles will know what that means. At least, he hopes he does.

\--

A _swoosh_ of air cut through the serenity of the glade. Odd, the stranger usually arrives following the metallic _clang_ of a door opening and closing. Had he discovered a new way to travel through the realms that offered less chances of dying horribly? In any event, Patroclus was grateful for the interruption, with the stranger here, he would talk excitedly and bring some sound back to his place. But instead of the sizzle of flaming feet against grass, Patroclus apprehensive footsteps ascend the stairs.

“Why so timid, stranger? You’re usua—”

_Oh._

As Patroclus turned, words died in his throat. A smaller, louder part of himself started to say that this isn’t real, he’s an illusion by the Fates, and the next time you blink he will be gone. But the longer he looked and the longer Achilles walked up the stairs, the more it proved this was real. He’s real.

Achilles is here.

_Achilles is here_.

He was still arrestingly beautiful. His skin was still sun-kissed, and firm muscled; his hair, full, wavy, and golden and kept at bay with his circlet. And his eyes were still the sea foam green Patroclus loved the ones he could stare into forever.

Achilles looked unsure, his eyes glassy and apprehensive, like he wasn’t sure what Patroclus would do when they saw each other. The grip on his speat was knuckle-white. His Achilles, the one who wasn’t afraid of anything, is _scared_.

Patroclus will have to ask Achilles what he was going through for all those years, what befell him that made the bags under his eyes so deep and his shoulders sag so heavily. That would have to wait. For now, Patroclus stands, thankful that creaking limbs and sore muscles are a non-issue in this world and holds out his hand.

“Achilles,” he says softly.

Achilles’s breath hitched. Hesitantly, he grew closer to Patroclus and held out his hand, inching ever closer to him.

It was Patroclus’s turn to gasp when their fingers brushed, while Achilles let out an exhale – turned – sob at the contact. His head hung forward and his shoulders shook as he wept when their hands finally, _finally_ , joined.

“Pat…Patroclus – I – I’m…I am _so_ sorry. I shouldn’t have…I couldn’t – I – _oh, gods it’s all my fault_ …” Achilles stammered, tears falling freely.

Patroclus’s lip quivered as he brought Achilles’s hand to his face, letting his eyes flutter closed when it fit there so perfectly, his missing piece.

“We are here now, we are together now, we are safe now. That’s all that matters, my love.”

“I missed you so much,” Achilles keened.

“I missed you too, I missed you, my Achilles,” he sniffled, the first tears falling now.

Achilles let his spear fall to the plush grass with a soft _thump_ and wrapped his arms around Patroclus, heaving a sob when they were pulled close. Patroclus drew Achilles in, shuddering when he felt how solid and _real_ and _here_ he is.

They parted slightly, just enough that their foreheads touched. Patroclus let out a watery laugh, joy finally bubbling to the surface after the shock and relief. Achilles laughed too, a cracked, awkward thing, like he had forgotten how to laugh after an age. It’s alright though, they both will relearn how to laugh and how to smile. They’ve endless time with each other now.

“You kept your promise,” Patroclus said, brushing a hair behind Achilles’s ear.

“The one where we would end up in a space covered with green?”

“Yes,” he breathed, genuinely touched that he remembered from all that time ago.

“I, ah, I suppose I did. Though not in the way either of us envisioned, I bet.”

“Hm, perhaps, but it happened, nonetheless. The Fates were kind to us, but in a way only they know.”

Achilles huffed a noise resembling a laugh, he’s getting better already. “Very true.”

“Who knows, this may prove to be better than what we imagined. I, frankly, can’t wait to find out.”

Achilles’s cracked a smile, “neither can I.”

The pair were silent after that, pulling each other into an embrace once again, content to just…be in each other’s presence.

Two souls, together in one spot.


End file.
